


Hanzo's Greatest Mistake (Trial)

by MaddRae



Series: The Daughter Series [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Other, Platonic Relationships, Post-Death in the Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 03:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14393448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddRae/pseuds/MaddRae
Summary: Of all the things Hanzo had expected to find at Gibraltar, a daughter was not one of them.(Testing out a concept for a possible longer fic.)





	Hanzo's Greatest Mistake (Trial)

Hanzo sat down heavily, breathing in the steam from his tea, letting the warmth worm its way into his muscles. His shoulders slowly began to relax. It had been another trying day at Gibraltar – too many people, too many noises, too many strained conversations. At last, he was on his own. But of course, there were footsteps approaching. The archer sighed heavily, silently hoping it would be Torbjorn or Mercy. _They_ would see him sitting alone in the base’s kitchen and not bother making pleasantries. McCree and Tracer would only fry his last remaining nerves.

Unfortunately, he had no such luck. It was the worst possible option possible. It was Mirra. His stomach sank, and his jaw clenched, just like every other time he saw her unexpectedly. As soon she spotted him, his chest tightened a bit. She stopped dead, but recovered much more smoothly than him, giving the man a gentle nod before moving to the counter. By the time he thought to nod back to her the young woman had already turned her back to him.

The stress of arriving at Overwatch’s base was daunting enough, but when Genji informed him there was a third person in their ranks that could summon a dragon, he was instantly on edge. It only worsened when he met her. Hanzo recognized the slope of her nose, the strong brow. He’d seen them on his mother and father. But that was as far as the Shimada family resemblance went – her skin was a soft caramel color, and her hair was a dark brown. Doubt had caused his brow to furrow throughout her warm introduction, but the more she spoke and moved and smiled a small amount of panic began to build in his gut. She was from that same little town in the American West the Shimada clan had sent him to as a young man. She used the same little mannerisms as the employees of the inn where he had stayed. She had the same skinny little fingers as the woman who worked the front desk. The woman who had fascinated him and unwittingly convinced him to stay just a day or two longer after his mission was complete.

Then there was the dragon. A slender, quick, feisty being the same shade of purple as early summer lilacs. His knees had nearly given way. For the next 24 hours he desperately tried to deny the fact that he, _he_ had a child. Hanzo was terrified. And sick. And unsteady, like he would topple over at the slightest breeze. The girl had said her mother died in childbirth, and she grew up with no idea who her father was. He figured it would be best if it stayed that way. Genji wholeheartedly disagreed, prying until Hanzo finally snapped and confessed, but his brother could not convince him to face the girl again.

Instead, the archer snarled something foolish: “If you believe so strongly that the girl should know, then you may be the one to tell her! And you may be the one to tell her that I have no interest in being her father!”

And Genji did. He told her. Two days later Mirra had come knocking on the door to his room, sheepish and shaky. She wanted to talk. Hanzo would have preferred to do _anything_ but. With a dry mouth he had said, “Genji has told you all you need to know. It is better if we remain fellow agents of Overwatch, nothing more.” Mirra scanned his face for a long moment before he saw her cheeks go pale and eyes well with tears. She put on a brave smile though, nodding before turning away from him with a trembling breath. Hanzo closed the door before nearly collapsing onto the floor, shaking from his prosthetic limbs up.

Now he had to stay in this place, watching her, and it was driving him mad. She was this brilliant, compassionate girl with an easy laugh and devilish grin. It took less than a week for her to charm her way into the hearts of everyone on the base. Winston could work for her in the lab for hours. Mercy was often praising her intricate knowledge of mechanized prosthetics. Reinheart delighted in having her help with dinner. Tracer was teaching her how to play cribbage. Torbjorn burst out laughing every time her biting wit made an appearance. She and McCree would spend hours reminiscing about the beauty the Rocky Mountains. Even the omnic, Zenyatta, found her “ability for thoughtful introspection to be remarkable.”

Genji adored her. The two of them were bonding infinitely more than the two brothers. The past month had been an almost constant struggle. Tonight was proving to be no different.

The smell of coffee pulled him from his thoughts, confusing him. It was late in the evening for such a beverage, but nonetheless, Mirra stood by the sink stirring a spoonful of instant coffee into a tall mug. He scoffed without thinking. Her eyes darted over to him.

“Something wrong,” she asked in her naturally low voice.

“Is it not rather late in the day for coffee?” Hanzo could hear the disdain in his voice – he had always found the drink distasteful. “A cup of herbal tea would be more appropriate. Less damaging to your body as well, especially considering you are still in your adolescence.” He watched as her face fell flat, unnerving him a bit. He looked back to his own cup and swiveled toward the window. A sudden deafening crash caused him to flinch, turning back to Mirra with widened eyes.

He could see her arms twitching from across the room. A wash of dread came over him.

“I’ve fucking had it,” she hissed quietly.

Hanzo rose from his seat, feeling more secure with the ability to run more readily available. “I beg your pard-“ he began.

“Enough,” she screamed turning her wild glare to him. He froze, his fingers going cold as his heart raced. “Enough of your constant berating!” She took a few long strides from behind the countertops, placing herself between Hanzo and the door, arms crossed and fuming. “I get that being angry and broody and unfriendly is your whole schtick, but _come on_. This tireless focus on me has got to stop!” Each syllable was filled with rage even as her voice trembled just the slightest bit.

“I don’t understand-”

She cut him off again, her arms flying out in an act of frustrated astonishment. “You don’t _understand?!_ What, did you think I didn’t notice all the times you’ve criticized me in the few last weeks?” She started moving closer to him, making his stomach churn. “All your little comments about how late I stay up, or the things I eat, or the company I keep, or the way I dress? I’ve heard them all! Every, little, one _slicing_ into me like a dagger. Hell, I even heard that little thing you muttered the other day about the way I ‘hold myself’ when I knocked over a wrench in the lab. Everyone accidentally knocks stuff over, Hanzo! Everyone! But you know what _doesn’t_ happen to everyone? Not everyone gets your neverending chiding! Not everyone has to try to live their life with you telling them _every day_ what a mess you are!”

Mirra was inches away from him, peering right into his stunned face. She was quiet, staring fixedly at him for what felt like eons before biting her lower lip as a tear slipped onto her cheek. “Just me. _I’m_ the only one who has to suffer through that.” Her voice was hardly above a whisper now, tainted with the sound a person’s voice only gets when they are holding back a sob. Hanzo felt a wave of something like nausea, a feeling that had started coming to him frequently since meeting Mirra. He’d been attributing it to the change in climate, or the new food, or anything else he could think of. But as he watched the young woman in front of him look away from him and bitterly wipe her eyes, he had to stop lying to himself. That feeling was guilt. And he was racked with it.

“I say -’ Hanzo began, his voice cracking as he realized his mouth had been slightly agape this entire time and now felt like parchment. He cleared his throat and started again. “I say these things because I –“ He faltered again. None of the words his mind was scrambling to find seemed right. Hanzo’s usual eloquence was nowhere to be found. He closed his eyes and took a long, deliberate breath – as if preparing for a challenging shot. Or the impact of a crushing blow. Mirra’s sad gaze was back on him by the time he reopened his eyes. She no longer looked angry, just hurt. Maybe a tad skeptical.

“I believe all the things I have said, all the things I have noticed, are aspects of you that I think should have been taught differently,” he admitted slowly.

She let out a disgusted noise, rolling her eyes. “No shit.” His body tensed. He’d offended her yet again. “You know, I didn’t get a choice in who raised me, or how,” she spat, “I didn’t get a choice in any of it. I didn’t _ask_ to be brought into the world. I didn’t _ask_ for the parents I was given. I didn’t _try_ to kill my mother. I know I’m an unexpected kick in the gut to your life, but it’s not like I _wanted_ to mess things up for you or screw you over. It’s-“ she stopped as a choked noise broke from her chest. Her hand clamped over her mouth for a moment as if it would stop her from crying. “It’s not my fault,” she said softly.

“No,” Hanzo said shaking his head. Her outpouring of emotion had felt like a blade gouging into his ribs. “I did not mean to place blame. At least, not on you.” Mirra gave him a confused look. He sighed, lowering his head. “You hold none of the blame for what happened to your mother, and you have not caused me any injustice. It is I who have been unfair to you – cruel even, and I regret my actions deeply.”

It was silent. She wasn’t saying anything. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her again, but he could feel her dark eyes on him.

“I still don’t understand why you’ve been hammering me so hard,” she finally murmured.

Hanzo chanced a quick look. Mirra was staring at her metallic feet, swaying back and forth awkwardly. He took his time mulling over his answer, attempting to root out the honest answer. Being truthful with himself was proving more difficult than he would have imagined, but the answer was there, and Hanzo knew it.

“It was easier for me to be angry with you than it was for me for me to be angry with myself. I know that does not make what I have to you right, or even acceptable. Nowhere close to acceptable,” the graying man said rubbing his neck, feeling the sweat that had appeared there. He knew his forehead was the same. “There is nothing I can say to undo what I have done, but I now see that I have acted dishonorably and it will not happen again.”

Mirra’s arms dropped to her sides as she leaned closer to him, twisting so he was forced to look and her rounded face. Her expression was gentle now, curious, but her eyes were still red from the tears. Guilt wrapped around him again.

“Why are you telling me all this now then,” she asked, “why the change of heart?”

The truth spilled from him: “I do not want to hurt you anymore.” Every last fiber of his being meant it, even the dragons lurking behind his tattoo thrummed against his skin as if to say, ‘at last.’

Much to Hanzo’s surprise, a small smile formed on Mirra’s face and a chuckle rippled through her lips. “Hanzo,” she practically cooed, “you know, none of your little comments would hurt _so_ damn much if I didn’t care _so_ damn much about your opinion of me.” His brow pulled slightly, unsure of what she meant. She tilted her head softly. “Every time I felt myself getting worked up over something you told me, I would scold myself. You had blatantly said you wanted nothing to do with me, why should I care what you thought about me after that? But no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t let it go. It stung. Every time. Because I wanted you to like me.” She straightened her back and Hanzo’s head moved along with her, hanging on her words. “Maybe you don’t _like_ me, but it’s kinda nice to hear you say you aren’t _trying_ to hurt me either. All this time I thought you were mad at me or something.” Mirra hesitated. “Are you mad at me?”

Hanzo let out a small groan. “I- I was angry,” he confessed, “but not at you. I was acting like a coward, and somewhere in me, I knew that. Like a bratty child, I lashed out.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I am ashamed.”

Mirra moved into a firm stance, giving Hanzo a thoughtful look. Likely deciding how to reprimand him, Hanzo mused worriedly.

“So where do we go from here,” Mirra sighed. “You know that I’m not doing so well with the whole ‘pretending things are okay’ thing, and I know that you, well . . .” She looked him up and down. “Well, I don’t know what you want, or what’s going on in that head of yours, but don’t think I can just pretend that this chat never happened.”

In truth, Hanzo was unsure of what he wanted as well. The sudden breaking down of his carefully constructed walls had left him reeling a bit. He felt exhausted. It was rather unlike him to have a full-fledged conversation, much less such a revealing one. A headache was beginning to press his temples, but at the same time, he felt considerably lighter. “I do not know what to say to you,” he huffed. “I never have.” A harsh laugh sputtered from Mirra, her head bobbing up and down in agreement. “However,” Hanzo said after swallowing hard, “if there is any way I can attempt to . . .  rectify this situation, you need only say so.”

She pinned a few dark locks behind her ears, not taking her eyes off him. “Do you mean that you,” – she dragged out the vowel for a few long seconds – “want another chance?”

He frowned, torso twitching back at the unexpected question. “I could never deserve one,” he replied somewhat breathlessly.

“Oh come on now,” she quipped with one eyebrow raised. Hanzo didn’t know how to respond. He believed what he said to be true. Her face relaxed again. “Right, we were raised in very different cultures. You probably mean that.” Mirra’s eyes roamed about the room as if a solution to their situation were tucked away in a corner. “But, what if I want to give you another chance,” she said gently, “what if that’s all I want?”

“I -” Hanzo blinked a few times, fumbling for something to say. Mirra swooped in to simplify things.

“Do you really want to make it up to me,” she asked. Hanzo nodded slowly. “Then be honest with me, because I’m going to be _real_ honest with you. You may not like it,” she said nervously, “but I think I deserve to be heard out.” He silently agreed. Mirra toyed with her hands as she spoke:

“All my life I’ve done my best to come to terms with the fact that I was never going to have parents, and eventually I did. I accepted it, despite the fact that there was always this nagging voice in my head that kept telling me there was a chance I still had one living out there. But I buried it because I thought that was best for me. Hope just starts to hurt after so many years. So I built my life around the fact that I was an orphan, and I found peace.” The young woman gave Hanzo a wary look. “Then I had to go and met Mercy. And fight with her, unleashing my dragon to save our lives. As soon as she looked at me and said she knew someone who had the same power that stupid hope came flooding back. I wasn’t sure who I was going to meet, but at the very least it was going to be someone _like_ me. And that would have been enough! That would have been wonderful! But I got more than that. I met an uncle, and a -” she tripped over the word, bleary-eyed again. “And a father.” His chest tightened at the sound of her saying it. Making it real. His dragons stirred again.

“And then I lost a father all over again.” Her voice was higher pitched, on the verge of crying again. She turned to the window, and Hanzo followed her gaze. There was just enough light for him to see the trees swaying peacefully, the lighthouse blipping along. The long quiet was fraying his nerves, but Hanzo was prepared to give her all the time she needed.

“I really want to have you in my life, Hanzo, in a good, productive, healthy way. It’s just about all I want, but you would have to commit.” He looked to her, but she didn’t look back. Streams of tears were running reaching down to her neck, an exhaustion on her face that didn’t belong on such a young woman. “I lost my mother before I met her, I lost the man who mentored and raised me, I lost the woman who helped me become the fighter I am today. They’re all gone, and all the progress I made putting myself back together after that came barreling down when you said you said wanted nothing to do with me. I can’t go through that again. I _can’t._ I don’t know if I’d ever claw myself back up from that pit.” Her dark eyes slowly met his, peering so intently into him a chill ran up Hanzo’s spine. “You’d have to _promise_ that you wouldn’t let me crash and burn again.”

Hanzo tentatively let his gaze trace over Mirra’s features, truly looking at her rather than the stolen, shameful peeks he had stolen before. Those eyes came from his father, and Hanzo had a matching set. The pensive, bold brows, too. The nose was his mothers, but he’d seen its slope and shape in the mirror all his life. Her big, puffy cheeks and the lips between them came from _her_ mother. He remembered them well. The wild ringlets dangling above her shoulders came from her mother as well. It was likely the first time a Shimada had ever possessed natural curls like that. She was beautiful. And heartbroken. He had caused much of that heartbreak, and it was devastating him.

“I promise,” he vowed.

Mirra’s head flinched to the side. “Wait, what?”

“Was that not the response you were hoping for,” Hanzo said hurriedly, taking a step back in retreat, “I -”

“No, no, no,” Mirra yelped. “I just thought you would say no! I figured you _wouldn’t_ want to anything to do with all that. I thought I was going to scare you off!”

The last of Hanzo’s compose slipped away. “I- I- cannot promise to be good at wh-whatever this will be – p-parenting, I suppose, but I can,” he coughed through the fear that was gripping his throat, “I can try.”

A smile lit Mirra’s face, a timid, but genuine one. “Really,” she asked barely above a whisper. He nodded yet again since every word in his repertoire was suddenly failing him. Her smile grew. “I’d- I’d really like that.”

An unexpected blast of relief rolled over Hanzo – it was enough to make him nearly buckle. “I am sure you know that, well, ‘family relations’ are not my strong suit,” he warned.

She laughed a bit, “Yeah, I’m aware, but it’s okay. I don’t know how to do this either.” Mirra’s lopsided smirk convinced Hanzo’s shoulders to ease up slightly. “I promise I won’t expect you to be perfect if you don’t expect me to be.”

“That sounds reasonable,” he agreed.

The young woman’s head shook good-naturedly, making her hair bounce playfully. “You are a severely confusing man, Hanzo.”

He ran his hands over his straining face. “Yes. I apologize for that.”

Mirra shrugged, “Don’t apologize, it makes you seem more real. Like you’re not just an amalgamation of angst and spite.”

“Yet you still wish you have me in your life?” He sounded doubtful.

Her grin moved her cheeks up so far the shape of her eyes changed. “Yes,” Mirra said firmly.

A hint of a smile found its way onto Hanzo’s face. “Very well.”

“You know this isn’t going to be easy right,” she said suddenly serious again.

“Yes.”

“Because I’m still hurt, and there’s a lot of history and apprehension here.”

“I understand.”

“And I’m not exactly the simplest person in the world either.”

“You are, at your core, a good person. I am the lucky party in this arrangement, I assure you.”

“I’m not entirely sure about that, but thank you,” she said blushing. The quiet between them grew awkward. A million questions and worries were buzzing in Hanzo’s mind, but he couldn’t find anything to say that felt right in the moment.

“Hey,” Mirra chirped, “I promised Winston I’d help him finish the work on his jump pack tonight and I’ve kept him waiting for a while now, but maybe we could talk more tomorrow? Over lunch or something?”

“If you would like.”

Mirra frowned, “Hanzo, I don’t want to feel like I’m forcing you to spend time with me. I need you to tell me now if you don’t want to do this – if you want to back out.”

He did his best to give her a reassuring smile, but he was rather out of practice. “I’m looking forward to it.” And he was.

She beamed. “See you tomorrow then.”

“Until then.” He watched her leave the room with a light step, a strange sense of excitement, worry, and relief rippling down his back. He felt a little dizzy. But better – the smile still lingering on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Originally Posted at my Tumblr: prettyfunkyunorganized.tumblr.com  
> \- Based on a friend's headcanon post (link pending).


End file.
